Connecting
by Brumeier
Summary: Post-Sentinel Too. Blair needs to come to terms with some personal realizations - will it change his relationship with Jim for the better, or destroy it? Pre-slash.


**Standard Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. If I did, the show would've had less subtext and way more text. LOL!

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><p><strong>Connecting<strong>

Blair Sandburg had the uncanny ability to make connections. Intellectually, that was a big part of his role as an anthropologist; seeing the similarities between cultures throughout time, tying the past to the present. This is also what made him such a good consultant to the PD - his ability to see correlations where others couldn't. Socially, his easy-going manner made him very approachable. He had a lot of friends, and even more acquaintances, and many of these social connections became physical ones as well; brief romances that were mostly all surface and no substance. But even as open and available as he made himself, the emotional connection was the hardest for him to cultivate.

When he gave it any thought, which wasn't often, Blair shrugged it off as an unfortunate by-product of his transient childhood. He'd found it best not to get emotionally attached to people he would only know for a short time before Naomi found someplace new she wanted to go. And for the most part he thought he was getting along fine just as he was; he was young, he was free, and he was having fun. He tried to remind himself of this on those extremely rare occasions when he did try for something more, something deeper, and was inevitably rejected.

Maya Carasco had been the last person for whom he'd worn his heart on his sleeve, and her – justified – anger towards him had hurt more than he'd thought possible.

"I love you, too. But I hate you, too."

Blair didn't know what he'd been thinking. Their relationship had started under false pretenses, at Jim's insistence. He'd known what the suspicions were against Maya's father, had known what was at stake. Hell, he'd been right in the middle of that gunfight! But there'd been something about Maya, some undefinable quality that had blinded him to everything else. Things could only have ended in heartbreak, as they had.

He'd kept it all surface since then, and made sure the girls he was with knew the same. He didn't to hurt anyone with false assumptions. He even made several trips back to the monastery in the intervening years, often wondering if he should just take up the vow of celibacy and call it good. It was never much of a debate; he craved human companionship too much to give it all up like that. He didn't think any less of Brother Marcus for finding solace in faith, but he much preferred a warm pair of arms holding him in the night.

Everything had changed the day he died.

Blair had been fooling himself. There was one person who had insinuated himself under the emotional radar, filling that barren landscape without drawing attention to himself at all. It wasn't until Jim threw him out of the loft during the whole Alex Barnes disaster that he realized the connection had been made, and probably for a while. How could he have not seen it, felt it?

"I just need you out of here by the time I get back."

The pain of that had left him lost, floundering. It was a feeling that just got worse and a lot of it was wrapped in guilt. He'd kept something vitally important from his friend, his partner, and it had come back on him. His last words with Jim had been angry, and he knew Jim felt as badly about that as he did. But Blair had been given a second chance. Alex had drowned him in the fountain, but Jim had refused to give up. Despite everything that had happened, he refused to let his Guide die and had found a way to bring him back. Simon had told him how hard the man had worked to keep him alive.

That should've gone a long way to helping them heal, but it hadn't. Jim didn't want to talk about the shared vision or its implications. Instead he'd chased Alex to Sierra Verde. Blair had in turn chased after him, with Megan as his accomplice, and tried to help. But there was more pain waiting for him down there. Alex and Jim kissing on the beach, his friend seemingly unconcerned when she threatened his life yet again.

Somehow they'd survived it all. Alex was locked away, and he was back in the loft with Jim, and it seemed like life could go forward as it normally did. But Blair was having a hard time moving on. He felt betrayed by his own feelings. He hadn't invited Jim into his heart, hadn't wanted anyone there at all. Especially since it seemed Jim had so many ways to hurt him, to destroy whatever tentative connections they'd built between them.

Sierra Verde was two weeks behind them now, and still Blair felt that something just wasn't right inside himself. There was a constant pain in his chest that had nothing to do with his drowning. He couldn't go back and he couldn't move forward, and so he remained stuck in between, trying to figure out what to do. Finally he realized that he wasn't going to be able to think clearly as long as he stayed at the loft, the tension in the air heavy and smothering.

"I'm going away for a while," he said abruptly in the middle of dinner. He'd only been pushing his pasta around the plate anyway, and now he stood and scraped it off into the garbage pail.

"What? Where?" Jim's look was a mixture of concern, fear and guilt; it was a familiar expression these days.

"St. Sebastian's. I'm leaving tomorrow."

Jim pushed his own plate away, arms crossed and brow furrowed. He'd be angry now, which Blair knew was the emotion he often felt safest with. "For how long?"

"I don't know. Couple weeks, maybe." He put the leftovers away, needing something to do so he wouldn't have to look at Jim.

"Sandburg…"

He waited, wondering what argument would be made. Reports to be typed at work? Jim would never admit to needing help with his senses, and Alex Barnes aside he hadn't needed help with them in a while. There was nothing he could say that would keep Blair there, and in the end he said nothing at all.

"I'll…uh…I'll call you and let you know when I'll be back."

"Whatever." Jim stomped off to the living room, leaving Blair to clean up after him. He left for work earlier than usual the following morning, already gone by the time Blair got up.

*o*o*o*

Two weeks had come and gone, and Blair found himself unwilling to go home. Life at St. Sebastian's was just what he'd needed. He had time to decompress, to meditate and try to work out his feelings. He'd taken a vow of silence shortly after arriving, and never thought that could be so liberating. There was no pressure to talk his problems out with any of the Brothers, which allowed him to keep his focus inward most of the time.

When he wasn't meditating, he helped with chores around the monastery, worked with Brother Marcus on stained glass restoration, or just took long walks through the grounds. Self-reflection had gained him several insights, some unpleasant, others illuminating. He'd acknowledged the selfishness that had kept him from telling Jim about Alex. She'd taken everything from him, including his very life, but he was working hard at forgiving her. He didn't want to carry that anger and fear around with him anymore.

Mostly, he tried to come to a decision about Jim. That emotional connection, the one he'd thought impossible for him, had been made who knows how long ago. That Jim had been able to do that, to slide into his heart and fill the empty spaces so stealthily, was troubling. The last rejection his friend had given him had been almost impossible to come back from. What would another do?

Jim's role in his life had changed so much from that first day of hero worship. He'd been an unwilling test subject, a big brother, a friend, a partner, a Blessed Protector, a teacher. He'd scolded Blair, pushed him away, held him close, laughed both with and at him, and had shown him a side that others rarely ever got to see. Which made Blair wonder if that connection ran both ways, at least a little.

It was all circular thinking, as long as he kept himself tucked away. If he couldn't talk to Jim about any of this, then none of it mattered. Maybe it was just recent events putting their stain on everything, but he couldn't help feeling that if he told Jim everything then he'd be facing his biggest and most final rejection. There'd be no coming back from that, no staying friends, no pretending things were normal. They'd be finished. And so he kept himself at the monastery, maintaining his silence.

He'd thought the monks understood his need for solitude, until he overhead Brother Marcus talking to someone as he came around the side of the main house.

"Brother Blair has taken a vow of silence during his time with us, and we've been respecting his need to do so. Normally we wouldn't allow any visitors without his approval, but…I believe the time for introspection has ended, and the time for decision is upon him."

Blair frowned. He didn't appreciate Brother Marcus meddling in his affairs, particularly when he turned the corner with Jim in tow. He hastily reschooled his features so as not to reveal any of his feelings, and went back to pulling weeds in the herb garden. He knew it was a futile effort; his heart was beating so loudly even he could hear it, never mind someone with Sentinel senses.

He scowled at Brother Marcus' sandaled feet, which stopped just outside the little garden fence, but he didn't look up.

"You don't have to talk, Brother Blair. But you should listen." With that, the monk went on his way and Blair was left alone with Jim. The silence between them grew, until finally Jim sat down in the grass, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

"Hey, Chief."

Blair bit his bottom lip. It had been much easier contemplating Jim from a distance, but to have him here…all he wanted to do was crawl in his lap and bury his face in his friend's chest, waiting to hear that everything was going to be alright.

"Vow of silence, huh? The guys'll never believe it. Everyone's been asking about you."

Blair risked a quick look, keeping his head down. Jim was running one hand through the grass, probably feeling each individual blade. He wondered if the Sentinel could feel the impending rain as well. Light blue eyes looked right into his own and he blushed, looking back at the weeds he was supposed to be yanking out of the soil.

"Megan came over last week. Boy, did she give me an earful! When she didn't get so worked up that she lapsed into Aussie speak, she actually had some interesting things to say." Jim lay back, arms behind his head. "I guess I already knew a lot of it. I supposed what it all comes down to is that I'm…scared."

That gave Blair pause. He looked over at his friend, but Jim was staring up at the sky now. Maybe it was easier for him to talk that way, to say what he needed to say.

"I'm sure you've noticed that I'm no good with relationships. Always scared that I'll really fall for someone and they'll leave. I'm sure you have a bunch of psychology terms you could throw at me about that." He chuckled. "But you won't stay at arm's length. Never did. And losing you…Chief, that would be bad. Really bad. Not just because of the Sentinel stuff, but because you're my best friend."

Blair looked down at the herbs, tears gathering in his eyes. He'd never heard Jim talk so openly about his feelings.

"I know I really screwed things up, with Alex and everything, but I want you to come home with me. I can't promise I won't act like a jerk again, but I'll really try. Just don't shut me out. Please."

The pain in his chest grew larger, until he almost couldn't breathe. How could he say no, when Jim had laid himself bare that way? But if he wasn't honest in return, what hope was there for them?

"Jim," he said, his voice strangled. The Sentinel was immediately at his side, one hand on his chest and the other gently rubbing his back.

"Chief, what's wrong? Have your lungs been giving you trouble? The doctor said you'd be prone to infections, after…"

Blair shook his head, struggling to get himself under control. Finally he just gave up and turned, resting his head on Jim's shoulder and wrapping his arms around him. Was it wrong to need this feeling of security from another person?

"Talk to me, Blair," Jim murmured in his ear.

He kept his eyes closed. "You're the best friend I ever had, man. Or will ever have. But…it's not enough."

Jim stiffened, but didn't push him away. "What's that supposed to mean? What more do you want?"

Blair sighed. He moved back, sitting on his heels, and put his hands on either side of Jim's face.

"You are the most important person in my life, big guy. _The_ most important." He didn't know how to say the rest, and dropped his hands; Jim caught them up in his own and squeezed them gently.

"Blair?" he whispered. "Talk to me."

"I love you," Blair said, so softly that even Jim had to strain to hear him. "And I know you don't feel…"

"You listen to me, Chief," Jim interrupted fiercely. "The day you…that day at the fountain, I thought I'd lost everything. If your heart hadn't started beating again…I'm pretty sure mine would've stopped too."

"That's a bit dramatic," Blair said, his attempt at levity falling flat.

"It's the truth. I haven't let myself love anyone for a long time, Chief. But I…I love _you_. And I'm so afraid of losing you again."

Blair just stared at him. He could feel that Jim was telling the truth, but how could that be? How could he have missed that? Fear-based responses, he reminded himself. Both of them were guilty of it. But maybe this time he could push that fear aside. Jim had brought him back from the dead – what other sign did he need? That's what the vision had tried to tell them; they belonged to each other, heart and soul. Sentinel and Guide.

He opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say, when the skies that had been threatening rain all day finally opened up. They were instantly soaked. Blair looked up, squinting his eyes against the deluge, and started to laugh. He got to his feet and held his arms out, laughing. Jim looked up at him, amusement warring with concern on his face.

"Chief?"

"'Love, if you love me, lie next to me. Be for me, like rain, the getting out of tiredness, fatuousness, the semi-lust of intentional indifference. Be wet with a decent happiness.'" Blair grinned down at Jim. "It's from a poem, by Robert Creeley."

"Doesn't rhyme," Jim replied, finally deciding to go with amusement. Blair pulled him to his feet.

"It means you smooth out all my rough edges, big guy. You're like the rain; you wash all the bad stuff away. And all that's left is us."

Jim smiled, his rare and beautiful smile. "I like that."

They stood there in the middle of the herb garden, clothing plastered to their bodies by the pounding rain, and shared their first kiss. A tentative brush of lips. And then Blair was spinning like a top, his arms flung wide and his heart about to burst from sheer joy. He was finally moving forward, and doing it whole for the first time in his life; it was worth celebrating.

Jim caught his arm as he danced by, pulling him close for another kiss. This was less tentative and more territorial, as the Sentinel made sure the world knew this Guide was his and his alone. Blair felt their skin should be steaming from the fiery heat of it.

"I think I'm ready to go home now," Blair said when the long, deep kiss finally ended. He was already aching for another.

"Glad to hear it, Chief. Think of all the cooking and cleaning you have to get caught up on."

He punched Jim in the arm. "I was thinking more like…a fire, couple of beers, maybe some canoodling."

"Canoodling, Sandburg? I don't canoodle."

"I bet I can change that," Blair said with a smile. "I always love a challenge."

"The challenge will be getting you home before you catch pneumonia. Let's go."

Brother Marcus met them around front with Blair's bag in his hand and a pleased look on his face. "I had a feeling you'd be needing this, Brother Blair."

"Thanks for meddling," Blair said, giving his old friend a hug.

"I owed you one," the monk said with a wink.

*o*o*o*

Two hours later, Blair and Jim were comfortably ensconced on the couch, a fire crackling away in the little stove. They'd both changed into sweatpants and t-shirts, over which Blair had also layered a flannel shirt. Beer had been swapped out for tea, and they sat close together, sharing a blanket. Jim ran a hand through Blair's curls, which were only slightly damp now. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, lips curving up into a smile.

"You smell good, Chief. The scent of the rain is still on you."

"We have a lot to talk about, you know," Blair said, setting his tea cup on the coffee table.

"Tomorrow," Jim promised. "Today…we canoodle."

They shared a languorous, exploratory kiss, learning the taste and feel of each other's mouth. Blair felt a shiver of pleasure run down his spine and clear out to his toes.

"As canoodlers go, big guy, you're one of the best."

"You say the sweetest things, Sandburg."

They laughed, and Blair knew that Jim was right. Talking could wait. For right now, they continued to smooth out their edges and heal their mutual scars, through tight embraces and gentle kisses and the understanding that what they felt for each other was real and true. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

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><p><em><strong>AN:<strong> Bunnies again. They never leave me alone. Picture me, lying in bed in the middle of the night, my notebook propped up on my pillow and my hubby's maglite flashlight balanced on my shoulder so I could jot some of this down. I hadn't planned on it running so long, but Blair thinks a lot and what could I do? Let me know what you think!_


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